Empire of Storms

Dramatic rescues give him purpose and fulfillment in his dull, immortal life.”

“You are a Crochan. The last of their royal bloodline with the death of your sister at your own hand. You are a Crochan Queen.”

Her name was Rhiannon, after the last Crochan Queen. And she
was your half sister.

She said your father was a rare-born Crochan Prince. And she said that your mixed blood would be the key.

Then Manon Blackbeak whirled and brought Wind-Cleaver down upon her grandmother.

And Manon understood in that moment that there were forces greater than obedience, and discipline, and brutality. Understood that she had not been born soulless; she had not been born without a heart.

“The Lock, Heir of Terrasen. I summoned you here for it. In the Stone Marshes, there lies a sunken city—the Lock is hidden there. It is needed to bind the keys back into the broken Wyrdgate. It is the only way to get them back into that gate and seal it permanently. My daughter begs you—”

Aelin bowed her head slightly to Brannon.

“The Wolf of the North.” The sneer deepened. “And the fire-breathing bitch herself.”

Dorian nodded his thanks. “The first time you met Aelin, did you know … ?”

A snort. “No. Gods, no. We wanted to kill each other.”